Some Monsters Are In Your Head
by PoppyJ
Summary: It was getting hard to ignore, the feeling that was eating him up inside. His heart beat in his throat. Both legs were tense, and he felt the urge to sprint from the store, the shopping cart abandoned in the line as he waited for the cashier. A "'What If...' Sam suffered from panic attacks?" AU


**Sorry I've been away so long **

**This one popped up when I read that one of my favorite artists suffered from panic attacks as a teenager; I've personally lived with anxiety since age eleven, and experienced a panic attack in the past. The one Sam experiences is one of the more severe. I'm no expert on panic attacks or anxiety.**

**I DON'T SPEAK FOR ANYONE WHO SUFFERS PANIC ATTACKS – THIS IS ONLY MY INTERPRETATION. Sorry if I've offended anyone. **

**Disclaimer:**

**Summary:**

**oOoOoOoOoOoOo**

It was getting hard to ignore, the feeling that was eating him up inside. His heart beat in his throat, so hard he was surprised he couldn't see it protrude from his neck. Both legs were tense, and he felt the urge to sprint from the store, his shopping cart abandoned in the line as he waited for the cashier.

Three carts to go.

Three, full, carts to go.

And a very chatty cashier.

Sam swallowed again, noisily, and rubbed his forehead with one hand, squeezing his eyes shut. He pulled at his shirt collar, wishing suddenly that he was wearing a button shirt.

Why the hell was he thinking about that?

He jerked his head around suddenly when the automatic doors slid open, the sunlight that had flooded through now blocked by several figures, all capped, all wearing baggy sweatshirts, all chewing gum and looking a mixture between excited and terrified. He recognized them from school. His spidey sense, seemingly more keen and aware these days, tingled whenever he saw them. Today, alarm bells rung and his mind begged him to run the moment he set his eyes on them.

Sam quickly looked away, shaking his hair over his face. He felt his legs tense again – _what the hell was that?!_

He looked briefly up again, scanning the area for the hoodie-wearing, capped, lethal-looking kids, spotting them pushing and shoving each other at the booze-and-smokes corner of the store. Sam thought he was about to choke on his own heart as one of them glanced over briefly at him, and his stomach twisted. He quickly bowed his head, leaning his forearms on the shopping cart handles and clutching his hands over the cart in a clammy, white clump.

What if that kid had seen Sam looking? What if he came over? Was Sam that easy a target? God, what if he brought his friends?

Sam swung around when he felt a sharp poke between his shoulder blades, his eyes wide. His attacker, a middle-aged woman with a bad haircut and kind eyes, gave him a concerned look before nodding at the queue. "Line's moving, sweetie," she said unsurely.

Sam nodded and gave a quick, uneasy smile, and slowly turned back around, his head spinning sixty times ahead of him. Silently, he slowly edged the shopping cart forward, eyeing the kids at the booze-n'-smokes counter from behind his bangs.

He pulled again at his shirt collar, yanking the fabric so hard some of the stitches ripped, as he gulped in breath after breath. God, he wanted air. Why couldn't he get any air? Was he dying? Was he gonna die right now, in a supermarket, because he couldn't breathe?

He looked desperately at the front door. Thirty meters to freedom. Thirty meters to air, thirty meters away from those kids, thirty meters closer to the motel.

He scoffed to himself, choking slightly as he did so. _Don't waste air. _

He could shop alone. He could do this. He could.

A sharp cry from one of the aisles made him jump, and his heart jumped to his throat as he stared at the toddler that had screamed not five feet from him, a chocolate bar at his feet.

Sam felt his legs tense again, his stomach turn, his hands begin to shake.

He was dying. God, he was dying.

_What the Hell was happening?! _

Sam gripped onto the handle of the cart as he battled to gain control of his breathing, of his head, of his _anything _as terrifying 'what if's' tore through his mind, his vision slipping in and out of blackness.

A light touch on his arm.

"Sweetie…" the words disappeared as a new threat registered in Sam's fucked up head.

A laugh from the kids at the counter.

Another ragged breath from Sam.

_He was going to die… _

A scream and a stomp from the toddler.

A ragged breath.

_He needed to get out. _

_Run. Run. Run. _

The next second, Sam was heaving in warm, evening air, his stomach flipping and twisting in directions he didn't know were possible, his head spinning and spinning and spinning, adrenaline tearing through his body and his head and every nerve telling him to run –

"Sam?"

A familiar voice, and an advancing figure.

Sam spun on the spot, still swallowing great gulps of air.

"Sam! Hey, you okay?"

The teen allowed a short, sharp breath of relief as he, slowly at first, then suddenly allowed himself to drop on to the sidewalk, leaning his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands, sorting through the hybrid thought in his mind, his whole figure still shaking –

"Sammy, what the hell happened?"

Sam barely flinched at Dean's touch, the hand familiar on his back. He closed his eyes, still not quite sure if he was in control yet. "Dean," he croaked, forcing himself not to cry. His face screwed up.

"Hey. Hey, it's okay," the low, comforting voice soothed, a complete contrast to the harsh, protective stance Dean was taking around his kid brother. "It happened again, right?"

Sam swallowed a sob, gripping his hair tightly with his hands. A slow nod was all he gave.

He heard Dean breath out slowly as he crouched next to him. "S'alright, Sammy. You're okay. You're gonna be just fine, I promise."

Sam gave himself a few minutes before looking up, instinctively scanning the car park for any dangers. His ears pricked as a car horn sounded in the distance, and his head snapped sideways as the automatic doors from the store slid open, the teenagers he'd seen earlier slipping past, casting him wary glances. He felt his hands and feet tingle, his heart begin to beat faster –

Dean blocked the view as he shifted to Sam's other side, lightly gripping his brother's arm. "Sam. Calm down."

"I'm okay."

"I know," Dean assured, ghosting a hand around Sam's back as they both stood. Sam shuddered a sigh, closing his eyes as he harnessed it all in. Whatever 'it' was. "Sam. We'll figure this out."

Sam turned silently to look at his brother. His face, dyed orange by the burning, setting sun, washed in worry, his green eyes sad. "We'll figure this out," he repeated.

Sam nodded.

But still, the tingly feeling remained, his heartbeat stayed higher than normal, and his mind stayed frayed and wild, even in the safety of the Impala.

oOoOoOoOoOoOo

**Short, choppy, a bit odd, but I really wanted to write it. **

**Feel free to carry it on or whatever, play with it, change it around – let me know what you do. **

**Again, only my interpretation of what if feels like – no offence intended! **

**please review! They make me grin like a fool on a plate.**

**Lots and lots of love **


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